


Two-Man-Team-Away-Day

by Ytteb



Series: Two-Man-Team-Day [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: Tony and Gibbs are given an assignment by Director Vance - it's tough, but someone has to do it!Another in the Two-Man-Team-Day series but don't worry if you haven't read the previous mad stories!





	Two-Man-Team-Away-Day

“Gibbs! DiNozzo!” snapped Director Vance as he strode into the squad room.

“Director?” said Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

“Leon?” drawled Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

The toothpick in the Director’s mouth snapped audibly, “Got a job for you. Just got a report of possible intruders in the Tidal Basin.”

“In the what?” asked Tony.

“You heard me, DiNozzo! In the Tidal Basin.”

“It’s a big place, Leon,” said Gibbs laconically, “You might need to be more specific.”

Another toothpick met an untimely end, “The Navy have a boat moored there …”

“Ship,” murmured Tony before smiling innocently.

“The Navy have a _boat_ moored there,” continued the Director, “It’s going to be used as a conference centre at the end of the week …”

“Why?” asked Gibbs.

Vance scowled still more, “Funny thing, Gibbs – I didn’t ask _Admiral_ Jesco for a reason! But it looks as if someone’s broken in, so you and DiNozzo can go and check it out.”

“Why us? We’re the _Major_ Case Response Team,” objected Gibbs, “Doesn’t sound very _major_ to me.”

Vance ground his teeth, “The other teams are all busy …”

“You doing Dispatch’s work for them now, Leon?” asked Gibbs.

“Seems _Dispatch_ is too frightened to ask your team to attend a crime scene, Gibbs. So, your Director is telling you to go. Understood?”

There was a pause not quite long enough to count as insubordination before Gibbs spoke, “DiNozzo, get McGee and Bishop out of MTAC. Tell them we’ve caught a _case_.”

“Belay that, DiNozzo,” ordered Vance.

Tony stopped with his arm halfway towards his phone and wondered if he had ever been told to _belay_ something before.

“Agents McGee and Bishop are doing important work in MTAC,” said Vance firmly, “I need them to stay where they are. After all, Gibbs, you don’t seem to think this is worth your time so I’m sure you two can handle it alone.”

The long pause came again before Gibbs stood and took his weapon out of the drawer, “You heard the Director, Tony. We’ve got an important job to do.” 

Vance nodded briskly, threw a piece of paper down on the desk, “That’s the location. Time’s a wasting, gentlemen.” He turned and walked away.

Gibbs watched him go and then allowed a faint smile to show. A trip to the Tidal Basin sounded much better than the boring paperwork that was waiting to be done but it never hurt to show the Director who was in charge.

NCISNCIS

The ship/boat turned out to be a large yacht called the Melissa Belle. Gibbs instinctively assessed her seaworthiness and had to admit being impressed by her simple elegance. He and Tony went aboard swiftly and silently and, having made sure there was nobody on deck, made their way first into the large saloon before clearing the other cabins and the galley.

“Nobody here, Boss,” announced Tony.

“False alarm,” decided Gibbs.

“Oh well, got us out of the office for a while,” said Tony who had been enjoying the paperwork as little as Gibbs.

“Guess so. We’ll make our way back. Although …”

“What, Boss?”

“Didn’t seem very secure, did it?”

“Disappointed you didn’t have to use your lockpicks?” asked Tony shrewdly although he was also looking around suspiciously.

“Would’ve thought they’d have a watch on board … must be an important conference they’re having …”

“Unless they don’t like the people who are coming?” joked Tony.

“What? They want to make it easy to have them blown up?” snapped Gibbs.

“Guess not,” said Tony penitently, “Apart from anything else, this beauty must be worth a fortune. Wouldn’t want to have pay for it to repaired.”

“Not our problem,” decided Gibbs, “We’ll report back to Admiral Jesco that he needs to tighten up security. And ask Metro PD and Coastguard to keep an eye open. Come on.”

“What’s that smell?” asked Tony suddenly as he turned from following Gibbs.

Gibbs sniffed, “It’s coming from the galley.”

“The oven’s on,” said Tony as they went in. He cautiously opened the oven door and saw a large stew pot inside. He picked up a pair of oven mitts which were hanging conveniently nearby and took the pot out. Gibbs drew his weapon as Tony cautiously lifted the lid. There was a tense second or two before Tony moaned with delight, “It’s _Ribollita!”_

“It’s what?” asked Gibbs as he returned his gun to its holster.

“Ribollita. It’s soup,” he stooped over the pot to savour the smell, “It’s _Italian_ soup. It’s got bread, beans, kale … it’s _wonderful!”_

The list of ingredients didn’t enthral Gibbs, but the smell was certainly tantalising. “Doesn’t make sense,” he declared, “Do we think the intruders broke in to cook soup? Or was it Navy cooks and they’ve disappeared?”

Tony reluctantly tore himself away from the appetising smells assaulting his nose and turned to examine the galley more closely, “That oven’s on as well,” he said as he pointed to another cooker. Picking up the oven mitts once more, he drew out a pan of lasagne and gasped as he saw the cheese gently bubbling.

Gibbs frowned but allowed Tony a moment or two to inhale the smell of yet more Italian deliciousness and he walked instead to the large refrigerator and threw open the door,

“Huh.”

“Boss?”

“Come see.”

Tony joined Gibbs and peered inside the refrigerator, “Is that what I think it is?”

“I’m guessing so.”

Gibbs drew out a large cardboard box and laid it on the work top,

“Patty’s Pastry Paradise,” he read out.

“Patty is Patsy’s daughter,” explained Tony, “She decided she should update the name of the shop.” Patty’s Pastry Paradise was Gibbs’ and Tony’s patisserie of choice – although they didn’t let it be widely known – and they knew that Patty had inherited all of her mother’s skills and had added a few of her own, “But what’s it doing here?” he asked as he tried to marshal his investigative abilities.

For answer, Gibbs lifted the lid of the box. There was a collective _Ahh_ as the contents were revealed to be an assortment of meringues, truffles and, in deference to it being _Toffee Thursday_, a selection of caramel eclairs. There was also an elegant Sachertorte.

Tony sighed, “These are my type of criminals.”

“There’s a note,” said Gibbs. Showing his evidence handling skills, he lifted the folded sheet of paper by the edges.

“Want me to read it?” asked Tony tactfully. Gibbs nodded and held out the note. “Gentlemen,” read Tony, “Thought it was time you had another _Two-Man-Team Day_. Enjoy! Leon Vance.”

Gibbs was often silent, but it wasn’t usually because he was lost for words. Tony, lost in a happy reverie, didn’t expect Gibbs’ eventual response to be, “Damn!”

“Boss?” he asked slightly anxiously, hoping that Gibbs wasn’t going to march them off the boat … ship.

“Damn,” repeated Gibbs, “Didn’t expect him to follow through.”

“Boss?” Tony began to be encouraged by the tone of voice and cast a longing look towards the pot of Ribollita.

“Remember the awards ceremony?”

“Sure. You got the Meritorious Civilian Service Award … _again_,” he added in an undertone, “I accepted it for you … _again_.”

“Yeah, yeah. The Director feels bad about that.”

“He does? Well, if you’d show up for a change, I wouldn’t have to accept it for you, would I?” said Tony as he found that the prospect of delicious Italian food did not soothe him as much as he might have expected.

“No, not that, not you collecting it. He feels bad about keep giving me the award.”

“He does?”

“Sure, but he says it’s easier just to give it to me. Saves him having to go through all the records and decide who should get it. He says it’s more efficient and he says that SecNav likes it that way.”

“He does, I mean, she does?”

“Reckons it adds to a _mystique_ – having one agent who kinda becomes the face of the agency.”

“Yeah? You buy that, Boss?”

Gibbs shrugged, he didn’t really care who got the award, “Not saying I agree with Vance, but I reckoned he was telling the truth.”

“So, nobody else gets a sniff at the award because the agency thinks it’s easier just to give it to you?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. Oh, well, I guess it means I don’t have to get excited every year,” said Tony philosophically. He paused and then said, “Hey, what’s that got to do with Vance giving us an awayday?”

“Like I said, he felt bad about it. I said that you deserved to get the award and that it was about time he did something to show he thinks you’re a good agent.”

“You said that?”

“Sure. You know I think you’re a good agent, Tony.”

“Yeah, I know. Shame that you only seem to know it when nobody’s around to hear you say it.”

“Part of the _mystique_, Tony. You know that.”

Tony grinned, “Yeah, I know. You know, I think there’s an aftershave called _Mystique_ – I reckon I’ll get you some for Christmas. Do you good to have a change from Old Spice.”

“You want to talk, or you want to eat?” asked Gibbs, deciding not to explore the question of his aftershave.

“Eat,” said Tony simply.

Tony and Gibbs were soon sitting at the table in the saloon which, they now registered, was already laid for two. In deference to technically still being on call, they poured sparkling water into the crystal glasses.

Tony doled out generous bowlfuls of Ribollita, “Trust me, you’ll love it,” he assured Gibbs.

The ensuing blissful silence confirmed he was right. In a surprisingly short space of time, they were moving on to the lasagne and talking was still limited.

“You know,” said Tony as he swallowed the last mouthful, “I reckon the Director went to Lucilla’s for the food. I recognise the blend of herbs.”

“Don’t care where he got it from. Tastes good.”

“I feel a bit bad,” said Tony reflectively.

“I’ve got some antacids in my bag,” offered Gibbs kindly.

Tony looked horrified, “No, no! Italian food – good Italian food – would never give me indigestion. No, I feel bad about the kids.”

“The kids?”

“Bish and McHungry. They’re missing out.”

“Don’t think you need worry about them, Tony.”

“Why? You think the Director has got something for them too?”

“Kinda. I figure that they’re all caught up in the Director’s busy work. They’re feeling good about it … feeling important …”

“And going without food and drink will help them!”

“That’s what I think. The Director knows his people.”

“Huh. So, tomorrow, we just need to let them be smug when they tell us what they’ve been doing … and everyone’ll be happy. Well, just so long as we don’t actually _listen_ to what they say. ‘Cos I don’t think _listening _will make me happy.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Gibbs absently as he examined the contents of Patty’s box more closely, “What d’you think these are?” He pointed to some chocolate covered shortbread, “Doesn’t seem to fit with Toffee Thursday.”

“Wow!” said Tony excitedly, “It’s millionaires shortbread! I’ve had it in England. It’s shortbread, covered with caramel and then topped with chocolate … oh, if only I wasn’t so full, I’d try a piece.”

“Yeah, right,” said Gibbs sceptically, “Like you’re _ever_ too full to eat!”

“Guilty as charged,” said Tony cheerfully, “I’ll just take a small piece.” He selected one of the biggest pieces and took a happy bite.

Gibbs was more than willing to follow Tony’s example and took an even bigger slice, “Hmm, that’s good,” he said, “But I think I’ll just try one of those caramel eclairs … and maybe a coffee meringue …”

“There’s a lot of food here,” said Tony thoughtfully.

Gibbs laughed. Where food was concerned there was rarely so much that he and Tony couldn’t make healthy inroads into it.

“You think we’ll be getting visitors later?” asked Tony.

“Hmm, good point. I happen to know that sacher … that chocolate cake is one of Ducky’s favourites.”

“And the Director likes truffle cakes,” agreed Tony.

“Better make some coffee.”

“Why?”

“Caffeine’ll keep us awake. Don’t want to be dozing off when they arrive.”

“Good point. Shall I make it?”

“Nah. I’ll do it. You dished up the food. Why not go up on deck? We can watch the world go by.”

If Gibbs had suggested such a thing in the squad room, Tony would have felt obliged to look aghast but, in the world of Two-Man-Team-Days it was perfectly acceptable to suggest sitting and doing nothing.

It turned out, however, that there was something for Gibbs to do. When they settled themselves in the bow of the boat, they found that fishing rods had been set up for them. Gibbs baited the hooks for both of them and handed a rod to Tony,

“You know,” said Tony casually, “My grandfather … my British grandfather … taught me to tie flies.”

“What?”

“You know, flies … for freshwater fishing. We developed the Paddington Picturesque Planthopper … it was very successful.”

“You know how to do fly fishing?”

“Haven’t done it for a while, but yes.”

“Huh. Sounds like something Ducky’d do.”

“Ducky and I plan a fly-fishing weekend away in Mossy Creek, Virginia,” said Tony a little shyly, “You could come too.”

“Depends when it is. I’ve got that weekend for computer experts coming up. Don’t want to miss it. I’m giving a talk on new methods of … well, something really technical.”

“Hmm. Hey, Boss, do you ever regret … you know …”

“Know what?”

“Well, making people think that you’re an IT illiterate?”

“Nope.”

“That was quick.”

“Didn’t need to think about it. Hey, if the Director knew that I know about computers he might have decided that he could reward _me_ by shutting me up in MTAC with no food. No thanks!”

“Good point.”

“And, besides, it’s kinda fun watching everyone trying to think how to explain things in words of one syllable.”

“I guess.”

“Besides, it’s all part of my _mystique.”_

“I’ve just has a thought. Maybe they should have called the aftershave _mustique_. You know, because of the_ musk._”

The fish didn’t bite; the world went by in a considerately quiet manner and the caffeine failed to have its effect - and two NCIS agents drifted gradually into a contented slumber.

NCISNCIS

“Ship ahoy!”

“Permission to come aboard?”

Tony and Gibbs jerked awake to the sound of Leon and Ducky requesting to join them. Refreshed by their slumber and beginning to feel hungry again, they hastened to welcome them aboard.

“Could’ve phoned,” said Gibbs as he withdrew his state-of-the-art iPhone from its concealed pocket.

“We didn’t want to disturb you,” said Ducky considerately.

“Yeah, didn’t want to distract you from your investigation of the crime scene,” said Vance solemnly.

“We saved you some food,” said Tony virtuously.

“You mean you haven’t had time to eat it all!” corrected Vance.

“Maybe,” conceded Gibbs with a shrug.

“We didn’t start on the Sachertorte,” said Tony.

“I’m glad to hear it. And _you’ll_ be glad to hear that I’ve brought some of my home-made scones, fresh out of the oven. Some sultana and some cherry ones for your sweet tooth, Jethro. And I’ve made some cheese ones for you, Anthony with a healthy dose of mustard powder – I feel it adds a _punch._”

“And I’ve brought a Victoria sponge I made,” said Vance, “I wanted your opinion on the feather frosting … I think it’s the best I’ve done so far.” He produced a box and lifted the lid.

“Very good,” said Tony, “I mean, the first attempt looked a bit Jackson Pollock, but this looks great. You’ve got a light touch for a former boxer, Director.”

“Thank you, Tony. That means a lot … I’ve seen your frosting and, well, I know I’ve got a long way to go.”

“Hey, anytime you want another lesson, just let me know,” said Tony.

“Isn’t anyone hungry,” asked Gibbs a little plaintively, “I mean, I get some of you like to talk about food but me, I’d rather just eat it.”

“A most wise approach, Jethro,” praised Ducky, “And indeed, my scones will be at their best while they are still warm … although the thick cream might melt a little. But I have some jam made from Scottish raspberries which I think you will also enjoy … I always consider that Scottish raspberries are the best in the world …”

Tony and Gibbs managed to steer Ducky below deck so they could resume their food demolition. 

It was as Tony chewed through his third cheese scone that he spoke to the Director, “Uh, Director … I mean, Leon, Gibbs told me what you said … you know, about the Meritorious Civilian Award …”

“I know it’s hard to understand, Tony but well … wheels within wheels, you know … it seems better to keep giving it to Gibbs. People don’t cope with change well. In our line of work, stability and certainty are reassuring. People like to think that things are simple.”

“Like thinking that Gibbs is a techno dinosaur?”

“And that you are a womanising frat boy with nothing between the ears, Anthony,” suggested Ducky.

“Keeps ‘em happy,” said Gibbs.

“And they think I’m a disciplinarian,” said Vance happily, “That little display earlier on when I threw my weight around … that’ll have people hopping to obey me for weeks.”

“Glad we could help,” said Gibbs drily, “Although you could’ve told us what was going on.”

Vance shrugged, “Hey, it’s tough being Director of NCIS. I’m allowed some fun, you know.”

“Quite right, Leon,” said Ducky, “Have a piece of this Sachertorte. I think you will enjoy it.”

Silence, except for the sound of chewing and swallowing, fell. Characteristically, Tony spoke first,

“So, Boss, how’s the aromatherapy going?”

Gibbs swallowed the last piece of millionaire’s shortbread and licked his fingers, “I’m working towards getting my certificate … I’ve got to write something up about soothing and stimulating essential oils and I’ll be there but …”

“But?” prompted the others.

“But I’ve got interested in herbs. Been doing some work with an herbal master. In fact, Tony, you’ve solved a problem for me.”

“I have? How?”

“It was something you said earlier.”

“What? You want to know how to tie a Paddington Picturesque Planthopper? ‘Cos I don’t know about that, it’s sort of a family secret. Pretty sure I swore an oath …”

“No, not that. It’s just that I’ve been working on a new aftershave …”

It was often that, on Two-Man-Team-Days, people were shocked, but this was unusual enough for the other three to be stunned into silence.

“… and I was wondering what to call it … but I reckon I’ll call it _Mustique_. Got a ring to it, don’t you think?”

Ducky found the words. “I’m sure the sun is over the yardarm somewhere so why don’t we broach this bottle of fine Scotch whisky I have brought?”

The others nodded.

Tony offered the toast, “To Two-Man-Team-Away-Days!”

“Hear hear,” came the unanimous reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, not to be taken seriously … the characters will now try to squeeze themselves back into their NCIS boxes.


End file.
